Elder Wei did not lead Tran Kien out of the tranquil southern district. Instead, he guided him deeper into a narrow alleyway, as winding as sheep's intestines, where towering, moss-mottled stone walls blotted out the sun. The deeper they ventured, the damper and colder the air became. Daylight was left far behind, surrendering to the shadows and the flickering, eerie green light of ghostly lanterns hanging silently beneath dilapidated eaves.
This was an entirely different Thanh Chau City, a world existing utterly beyond the jurisdiction of the imperial court's laws and the ironclad rules of the major sects.
At the end of the alley stood a solid stone wall, appearing to be a dead end. But Elder Wei did not stop. He stepped forward, raised his hand, and tapped a brick—slightly darker than the rest—in a bizarre rhythm: three short taps, two long ones.
Click... rumble...
The grinding sound of mechanisms echoed out. The heavy stone wall slowly retracted and slid to the side, revealing a pitch-black passageway plunging straight down into the bowels of the earth. A murky draft wafted up from the depths, carrying a chaotic stench of cheap wine, stale sweat, rusted metal, and the faint, coppery tang of blood.
"Let's go," Elder Wei said, his voice as placid as if he were strolling into his own backyard. He stepped into the darkness first.
Tran Kien took a deep breath, his hand unconsciously tightening around the hilt of his saber, and followed close behind. The heavy stone doors slowly closed at his back with a heavy THUD, completely severing all connection with the surface world.
The passageway was a steep, slippery stone staircase. After descending roughly a hundred steps, an unbelievably vast expanse suddenly opened up before Tran Kien's eyes.
This was no mere market; it was a miniature city excavated deep underground. The ceiling was a colossal stone vault supported by massive, natural stalagmites. Embedded within them were luminescent ores that cast a dim, shifting light, vacillating between bright and murky. Underneath this hazy glow lay a labyrinth of crisscrossing dirt roads, flanked by stalls, taverns, fighting arenas, and makeshift abodes constructed haphazardly from wood and stone.
This was the Black Market.
The air here was steeped in chaos and peril. Of the figures moving about the streets, not a single one was ordinary. There were demonic cultivators whose entire bodies emanated a sinister black mist; fierce-looking itinerant rogue cultivators carrying bizarre weapons on their backs; scantily clad female cultivators with soul-stealing gazes; and even non-human entities with pointed ears or ghastly green skin.
Everyone here either wore masks or employed some sort of magical technique to conceal their true visages. This was the first unspoken rule Tran Kien learned: in the Black Market, no one used their true identity.
His gaze swept the area rapidly, analyzing his surroundings. He realized that despite the sheer chaos, there was a unique, underlying order to this place. No one dared to start trouble on the main thoroughfares, which were patrolled by squads clad in black armor. Though they bore no insignias, the auras they emanated were exceptionally formidable—at least at the late-stage of the Qi Guiding realm. Yet, in the murky back alleys, agonizing screams would occasionally ring out and then fall dead silent, with no one paying them any heed.
The second rule: might makes right, but matters must be settled in the shadows.
"Do not look around," Elder Wei transmitted his voice directly into Tran Kien's ear, a technique the youth had never seen the old man use before. "Here, every curious glance can be interpreted as a provocation. Follow me, and do not get lost."
Tran Kien immediately withdrew his gaze, staring only at his feet as he shadowed Elder Wei. He wore his wooden mask, covering the upper half of his face, revealing only his tightly pursed lips and resolute jaw. His early-stage Qi Guiding realm aura had also been concealed by some method of Elder Wei's, making him appear as nothing more than an ordinary mortal attendant.
Elder Wei ignored the districts peddling magical items or medicinal pills. He led Tran Kien through the winding alleys, finally halting before a three-story pavilion constructed from black stone, seemingly the sturdiest structure in the entire market. The pavilion possessed no signboard, only two brawny guards built like bears. They were bare-chested, covered in fierce magical beast tattoos, and stood watch at the entrance.
Seeing Elder Wei and Tran Kien approach, the two guards immediately raised their hands to block them, their gazes ferocious.
Elder Wei didn't speak a word. He simply produced that familiar, rusted coin, casually flipping it back and forth in his palm.
The moment the two hulking guards saw the coin, their ferocious glares vanished, replaced by a terror that seemed to stem from the very depths of their souls. They hurriedly bowed their heads and stepped aside, not daring to utter a single syllable.
Elder Wei and Tran Kien leisurely strolled inside.
The interior was not a tavern or a shop, but an auction house. The space was arranged in a semi-circle, with a raised dais in the center surrounded by hundreds of seats for guests. Most of the seats were already occupied, and the atmosphere was noticeably quieter and heavier than the pandemonium outside. Those who could secure a seat here were clearly figures of immense standing within the Black Market.
A young woman clad in a translucent red silk dress with a fiery figure and wearing a silver fox mask sashayed over, her voice as sweet as honey: "I wonder if the two Seniors have come to participate in tonight's auction? Shall this humble girl arrange a private VIP room?"
"No need," Elder Wei replied. "Two seats in the corner will suffice."
The fox-masked woman shot a quick glance at the rusty coin in Elder Wei's hand. A flash of astonishment crossed her eyes before her demeanor became extraordinarily respectful. She personally led the two to seats in a secluded corner with an excellent vantage point, then quietly withdrew, not daring to disturb them further.
"Elder Wei," Tran Kien asked via sound transmission. "Is that map... truly that important?"
"To others, it might merely be a treasure map of dubious authenticity," Elder Wei replied, his eyes fixed on the high dais. "But to us, it could be a clue. A clue leading to a forgotten Lac Viet ruin. We cannot afford to overlook anything tied to the words 'Lac Viet'."
Just then, the lights in the auction house dimmed. A scrawny old man clad in grey robes and wearing a ghost mask stepped onto the stage.
"Welcome, esteemed guests, to the Bloodshed Pavilion's auction tonight," the old man announced in a raspy voice. "Without further ado, the first item..."
A succession of rare, bizarre items—some even outright banned on the surface—were brought out: the still-beating heart of a Foundation Establishment stage demonic beast, a spirit flask containing the soul of a young maiden, a demonic saber radiating towering resentment... The atmosphere in the auction house grew increasingly feverish.
Finally, after nearly two hours, the ghost-masked old man gestured for silence.
"And for the final item of the night," he said, his tone turning mystical. "It is an artifact from a forgotten epoch. A beast-skin map, unearthed from an ancient tomb in the Endless Mountain Range. Rumor has it that it points the way to the burial grounds of the last Lac Viet Shaman!"
Two female attendants carried up a jade tray. Resting upon it was a dark yellow scroll of beast-skin. It looked incredibly weathered, exuding an ancient, desolate aura of vicissitudes.
The very instant the map appeared, Tran Kien felt the Sun Essence Guardian fragment, lying quietly in his inner pocket, tremble with a scorching heat.